


This Green Hell

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, F/M, Hit Wizards, Jungle, accromantulas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a recon mission through the jungles of Borneo, Hit Wizard Draco Malfoy and Auror Hermione Granger survive a surprise attack. Well, almost…</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Green Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Prompt #50 from DramioneLove Summer 2014. A very special THANK YOU to the incomparable beta, MM. I cannot do this without you! And a big THANK YOU to RZZMG for hosting this fabulous fest! You are an inspiration to me.

“Hell is not hot, or cold. Nor is it deep below ground, or somewhere in the sky. Instead it is a place on Earth filled with sucking bogs, disfiguring diseases and millions of tiny flesh-eating creatures. Hell is a jungle, and it is monstrously green.” —Greig Beck, _This Green Hell_

The jungle was hot.

No, scratch that. The jungle was unbearably hot, and sticky, and downright repugnant. Hermione refused to say she hated the jungles―they were, after all, a vital part of the eco-system, being the home of so many endangered flora and fauna, an eco-system in rapid decline― however, she weighed the value of such an environment against the stone she had surely lost through sweat and exertion while negotiating invisible paths through the dense jungles of Borneo and she simply couldn’t balance the scales. Despite all of this misery, and sweat, and the horrible bugs thriving off her sweat and occasionally nipping at her skin, Hermione Granger kept her mouth shut. Firstly, it wouldn’t do to accidentally swallow an endangered insect, but secondly―and more importantly― Hermione could never, ever, admit that she and Draco Malfoy were of the same mind.

On parchment, their mission was simple: Hunt down and capture Ulric Yaxley, Death Eater. Recently, an anonymous source claimed to have seen Yaxley here in Borneo. Hermione and Malfoy were on a reconnaissance mission, searching the jungles and the extensive cave system for any sign of him, or any other Death Eaters. After a handful of years as an Auror, Hermione knew that Death Eaters were seldom alone when hiding. More often than not, they travelled in pairs or very small groups. Too many Death Eaters drew too much attention, yet rarely had she or her colleagues taken down a lone Death Eater on a raid. 

Since their data was inconclusive and not completely reliable, the MLE assigned only two officers for this task: one Auror and one Hit Wizard as backup. It was Hermione’s dumb luck that she would be partnered with Draco _sodding_ Malfoy, again.

Despite all of this, there was one small part that Hermione rather enjoyed, and that was the unguarded opportunity to openly gaze at Draco Malfoy’s pert little bum. It was beautiful, with a solid curvature that wasn’t too large, and taut. Hermione wondered, every rare chance she had to admire Malfoy’s bum if a knut would bounce off it. It was, in a word, glorious, and at the moment, she was hard pressed to choose between wishing she were leading instead of following, or wishing she could reach out and pinch it. 

Unfortunately, as perfect and beautiful as Malfoy’s bum was, it wasn’t enough to disregard his constantly running mouth. If only he’d shut up, Hermione felt certain that they could finish this assignment in no time. In fact, she also firmly believed that if he were incapable of speech all together, his looks might actually land him the promotion he whined about not receiving at every turn.

The fog grew denser the higher they climbed. The rain had stopped only recently and, judging from the clouds above, Hermione suspected the respite was only brief. Still, she trudged on, trying hard to ignore the yammering just ahead. Instead, she did her best to stop staring at the outline of his wet bum. Malfoy’s diatribe was interrupted comically when he had, apparently, ingested a bug. Hermione was almost too exhausted to laugh. Suddenly, it was quiet, and so she looked up to see Malfoy glaring daggers back at her. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing again. Considering his reaction, that was just as bad, however.

Malfoy swung his wand through the thick vines and branches obscuring their path, the spell he’d cast cutting through it all as well as a machete might. His grumbling grew louder as his strokes grew wilder.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when we reach their hideout, Granger,” he sneered. Every time he spoke her name, it sounded like a dirty word. Hermione merely rolled her eyes and wiped futilely at the sweat pouring down her face again. She checked her own wand, worried that Malfoy’s frantic exploration was leading them off track. The Four-Point spell seemed to agree with his direction, surprisingly enough. 

The muscles in her calves ached tremendously, and the pack on her back, although magically charmed, seemed to grow heavier with every inclined step. Considering that they were on a mission to discover Death Eaters, they weren’t cleared to use much magic, for that could possibly give them away. However, Hermione was convinced that they could have used as much magic as they wanted for if anything were to ruin their surprise attack, it was Draco Malfoy’s buggering grousing. He was so loud that birds were nowhere to be seen. In fact, very few animals remained within sight, and she believed he was to blame.

His voice grated on her nerves and after a few hours, Hermione was only beginning to block it out; however, snippets of his whinging reached her and, for the most part, she had to hand it to him: this mission truly sucked. 

“When we reach the cave,” he continued, his voice wavering with the exertion of each swing. “Robards will _realize_ … how grand his mistake… was, holding me down. Should have been promoted _months_ ago, but no! Not when he has… _prrrrr_ -ecious Potter prancing about!”

“Just shut up, already,” Hermione mumbled. The mountain itself was quite steep, and they had been climbing for some time when, at last, the terrain seemed to level off. Her knees rejoiced. All the fog made it difficult to deduce their exact location, so she continually checked her wand. Hermione had very little faith in Malfoy’s abilities, and apparently she was the only one, since he had been assigned point instead of her. This had caused Malfoy’s pointy head to swell up. He continued to bemoan his lot in life until finally she’d had her fill. 

“Malfoy… enough!” Hermione’s body rocked a bit when she stopped suddenly, her feet planted apart. Subconsciously, her hands had balled into fists. Noticing this, she pressed them down upon her hips to keep from pummelling the rotten bugger. “You are _not_ the only one suffering here! It’s horrendously muggy and sticky and your nattering on doesn’t help things one bit.”

He had turned to face her when she snapped, panting loudly, his glacial eyes wide with anger and shock, it seemed. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to knock him off the blasted mountain. In the scant silent seconds before he retaliated, her mind created a lovely story to excuse his absence when she returned to London, having discovered Yaxley herself. 

_Oh, yes. Terrible accident. No, there was nothing to be done for him, unfortunately, because by then, the Kalimantan sea snakes had already eaten his head. Sad, really._

The pair began yelling at one another simultaneously, edging closer to one another in the process. Their voices grew louder with every snipe, and Hermione’s balled up fists unfurled and flew around in exasperation.

“You know what your problem is, Granger? You can’t stand me.”

She barked a laugh. “You have that right!”

Malfoy growled before reiterating, “You can’t stand what I am – that a mere Hit Wizard could possibly be smarter than you; that you need me to find these bastards. Just because you’re an Auror, you and Potter think you’re Merlin’s gift! Bullshit! You can’t do what I do —you haven’t the stones to get a job like this done.”

“Oh, yes, because you’ve done an excellent job of leading us deeper into the jungle, yammering away like a tyrannical toddler. It’s no wonder we haven’t come across Yaxley yet —your non-stop whinging and carrying on has given them more than adequate warning. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re tracking us now, lurking just beyond the fog.”

To prove her point, Hermione spun about then ran a few feet in random directions, making a show of calling out for the lurking Death Eaters. Behind her, Malfoy mocked her and continued to argue and shout, but she immediately forgot about him. There, not ten metres above her head, was a shimmery patch of gossamer. Droplets of rain had accumulated on the strands and caught what little light it could. Hermione stepped closer, her mouth falling open. The sweat that ran down her body now chilled her as she noticed not one or two spider webs, but dozens, maybe even hundreds, all around and above them.

The fog had made it nearly impossible to see them, but now it was impossible to miss them. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest as she slowly turned around, intending to warn Malfoy. Malfoy was still ranting as she faced him. The look on her face, though, shut him right up. The words, “Oh, boy,” were on her lips, but it was too late.

Their voices were replaced by loud clicking noises coming from every direction. Swiftly falling from the canopy were humongous spiders, dozens of them, their long, hairy legs gliding down the sturdy strings toward Hermione and Malfoy. Before she could retrieve her wand from its holster, one jumped at her partner. He was prepared, though, aiming his wand at the frightening creatures, sending bolts of electricity through its hairy body. The spider’s legs seized up and the jungle was filled with an awful screech of pain before it crumpled into a burnt ball. 

The smell was disgusting.

A second or two passed without anything further happening, but then the clicking began once more and they were under attack. Hundreds of gleaming eyes stared at the pair, their pincers clicking wildly. Hermione had time to aim and shoot her wand, yet she knew they were outnumbered. 

How had they managed to get into this mess, she wondered while firing away, not wishing to kill the enormous spiders as Draco had done; just merely stunning them. However, it was quite obvious they were fighting a losing battle. Retreat was the only option. “Come on!” she shouted at Malfoy, who was nearly impossible to see though the wave of Acromantulae descending upon them. Hermione ran back down the mountain, continuing to blast away spiders the size of baby elephants with every step. Soon, Malfoy was passing her by.

“This way! Come on, Granger —fuck!” From out of nowhere, a giant spider fell upon Malfoy, obscuring him from view. 

Without a second thought, Hermione shouted, “Immobulus!”

The clicking noises grew louder and there was the rustling of many long legs advancing. Hermione hurried over to Malfoy, using her wand again to fling the immobile Acromantula off him. Noticing the oncoming assault, she propelled the stunned creature into his companions, who scurried out of the way at the last second. It bounced and rolled and eventually hit a tree, dislodging a few more from above.

“Malfoy! Get up, you idiot! What are —”

She knelt down beside him, barely sparing him a glance, keeping her attention mostly on the attacking spiders. She could barely hear her own voice over their incessantly clicking pincers. With her wand aimed blindly to her right, she used her other hand to shake Malfoy, who at last groaned. Hermione risked another look, and that was when the next attack came. From high above, one spider shot down upon them. Hermione lost her balance but managed to avoid being bit. 

The ground gave way beneath them and, suddenly, they were tumbling down. In a panic, Hermione at least had the presence of mind to grab ahold of Malfoy, who was seemingly incapacitated. The pair rolled over one another, hitting rocks and branches with enough force to knock the wind out of them. Still, Hermione held onto her partner. 

They gained momentum as they went, until finally they landed in a mud pile. Hermione landed face first, mouth thankfully shut. Using both hands, she wiped the mud out of her eyes and off her mouth, gasping out a desperate breath. When she could see, Hermione scanned the area for more Acromantulae. After a moment, she decided she and Malfoy had managed to escape the killer spiders. _Malfoy…_

“Malfoy… get up,” she demanded, watching with growing apprehension as he did not respond right away. Malfoy’s breathing was erratic; his stomach concaved and then distended seconds later, only to do it all again. His harsh panting was almost as sharp and disconcerting. Hermione approached with caution.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” The words rushed out on a breath as she bent down to inspect her partner. Ignoring his moans, her fingers skimmed over his body, ineffectually searching for damage. With a shake of her head, she used her wand instead. After a few seconds, she discovered what the problem was. “Oh, damn…”

There, on his right trapezius muscle, was a bite. The area surrounding the two angry punctures was red and purple and rapidly swelling. Before panic could set in, Hermione’s mind tried to recall everything she’d ever read about spider bites, Acromantula bites in particular. They were deadly poisonous, but definitely treatable, if given enough time to seek proper medical treatment. 

Hermione knelt down, yanking her pack off her back in search of supplies. _Seconds count, seconds count, seconds…No, no!_ Out of all of the things she had packed for this expedition, Acromantula anti-venom wasn’t one of them. Hermione admonished herself for being so stupid. It was a well-known fact that Acromantulae originated here in Borneo, yet she brought no potion with her. She grasped a bezoar, found in the bottom of her pack, but chucked that as useless. _Buggering bollocks! No, stay calm and think, Hermione!_

Malfoy continued to moan, but his breathing seemed to even out. He was murmuring her name, her given name, while she continued to dig through her bag. Several items were tossed aside until she finally found what she needed next. Unlike some snake venom, Acromantula venom couldn’t be sucked out, unfortunately, and without anti-venom on hand, there were only two things she could do at the moment: clean and ice the area before using their Portkey to get Malfoy to some real help.

Her swift yet steady fingers hid her anxiety well as Hermione poured a good amount of canteen water onto the wound. Malfoy hissed and writhed, forcing her to steady him with her free hand. She pulled his prone body against her thighs, trying to hold him still as she cleaned the oozing wound. Next, she used her wand to freeze the water as it dripped slowly from the canteen, catching the misshaped cubes into a bit of cheesecloth she’d unpacked. Being as gentle as she could while still scanning the treeline for more Acromantulae, Hermione held the makeshift compress to Malfoy’s neck. 

Once he had stopped thrashing, Hermione released his torso and used her free hand to scrounge again within her pack for their Portkey back to their base. No…no… Frantically, Hermione’s hands searched without purchase. Her Portkey was gone, somehow. She glanced around their spot, futilely hoping to see the rusty horseshoe she’d been given for this mission lying nearby, having simply fallen out of her pack, but no. It was missing. 

“Accio portkey!”

After a moment, when absolutely nothing moved besides her manic heart and Malfoy’s desperate breathing, Hermione realized that she’d really fouled things up good and proper.

_This isn’t happening —it_ can’t _be! Oh, please, please let this be a dream,_ she silently begged as she returned her attention to Malfoy, pressing the icepack into his neck. As many times as Hermione had fantasized about Draco Malfoy simply falling over dead at the Ministry, she never actually wished him harm, let alone such a horrible death as this. _Oh, Merlin, what do I do? What_ can _I do?_ Malfoy was going to die in her arms if she didn’t get him help immediately.

“I take it back. I take it back,” Hermione whispered, her hands conveying her distress, trembling enough that it took an effort to keep the compress in place. Tears were welling up and one spilled over her cheek, falling onto Malfoy’s face. That was when he opened his eyes and stared up into hers.

“Hermione,” he whispered. His voice was so faint she practically read his lips rather than heard him clearly. 

“It’s all right —you’ll be all right, Malfoy. Just lie still.” The tears fell almost silently down her cheeks, while her hands trembled and her mind rapidly worked on a plan. Their only option at this point was Apparition, of course; however, Hermione was torn. His injury, although seemingly minor, was indeed deadly, and there was always the risk of splinching. The choice was grim, especially since every second would count. Hermione’s mind whirled over the possibilities. 

“Hermione, com’ere.” Malfoy’s right hand rose slightly, beckoning her down closer before flopping uselessly back on the ground. She removed her hands from his neck to wipe her face before leaning further toward him. “We both know I’m not going to make it back, Hermione. No,” Malfoy coughed, his entire body spasming beneath her when she tried to contradict him. “No point denying it. Hermione…I need you…”

“What, Malfoy? What can I do for you?” Hermione sniffled. Her hand wrapped around his and held it against her anxious heart. 

“Bef —… Before I die, would you…”

“Go on, Draco. Tell me what you need.”

“We wasted … so much time… bickering and bitching.” His voice was faint, as though the poison had finally reached his chest, restricting his oxygen intake. Hermione’s lips began to tremble as she leaned closer still, willing but not eager to hear her dying partner’s final words. In her mind, she saw an array of moments when she and Malfoy had fought no better than little children, over idiotic things, too. To what end did fighting bring them anyway? No good ever came of it, that was for certain, and now he lay here, in the middle of nowhere, far from anyone who could possibly love him, dying. She knew she wasn’t entirely to blame; however, the guilt was overwhelming. 

Whatever Draco Malfoy had the courage to ask of her, his constant combatant, she would willingly do.

“Hermione, would you…”

“Yes, Draco, anything. Tell me, what can I do?”

“…kiss me?”

She blinked twice before she realized her mouth was hanging open. Surely she had misheard him, because kissing a _Mudblood_ had to be the last thing Draco Malfoy would ever condescend to do. Hermione frowned, realizing that it wasn’t Malfoy playing games with her, but rather the poison working its way through his bloodstream, causing him to say and do things he otherwise wouldn’t. Her irritation at him diminished then, wholly replaced with pity and anxiety. This was her fault, she knew it. And what harm was there in giving Malfoy a little kiss anyway? It wasn’t like he was hideous. Well, not physically, in any case. If it weren’t for his abhorrent personality, Hermione would admit she was rather keen on him.

Seconds raced past while she debated the sense in granting his possibly dying wish. At last, Hermione leaned down. Kissing Draco Malfoy wasn’t the worst thing she had ever agreed to do. She licked her lips, feeling her cracked, chapped skin, just before pressing against his. For a second, she wished she had some lip balm with her. 

Then something unexpected happened. 

Malfoy’s lips were soft and hot. She had time to wonder if they were always this hot or if he had a fever before his lips parted and his tongue darted out. Without a second thought, Hermione deepened the kiss, opening to receive his kiss completely. She was kneeling beside him, one hand holding her above his prone body. The other somehow found its way to his face, cupping his cheek, her thumb rubbing at his temple as they kissed. The moan Hermione heard could have come from either of them. Something stirred down low in her belly as their kiss grew urgent. Once or twice, their teeth grazed each other’s, almost making her laugh aloud. 

Reality returned instantly, and Hermione pulled back, her hand covering her mouth. She couldn’t look at him. What had she just done? Had she really just snogged a dying man? Her cheeks were burning hot. Had there ever been a more inappropriate time for making out?

Malfoy cleared his throat before speaking. “Hermione, would you…”

“Yes, Draco?”

“Would you… hold my hand, please?”

Her heart twinged in her chest. Without a word, she threaded her fingers through his. Her mind raced, desperately trying to sort this out. There had to be something she hadn’t thought of, some way to save him. Malfoy’s thumb rubbed against the back of her hand, soothing her a bit. She looked down at him. His eyes were shut, almost as if he were falling asleep. He looked peaceful. 

Her tears resumed, welling over and spilling down her cheeks. Her chin trembled and her mouth did, too. Time had run out. Hermione raised their joined hands and pressed a quivering kiss on his hand, squeezing it tightly before lifting it to her wet cheeks. She could hear Malfoy faintly saying her name, _Hermione, Hermione,_ over and over. Feeling completely helpless, every breath seemed to catch in her throat.

“Hermione, would you…”

“Yes, Draco, what is it?” Her voice sounded rough from crying.

“…sit on my face and wiggle?”

Hermione blinked, completely startled by the request. She swallowed thickly over her tears and frowned. “Come again?”

“Well, maybe. That depends on you, love.” His voice was no longer faint, she realized, and his grin spread from ear to ear in absolute delight.

“What…? Oh, … oh, Malfoy, you … _bastard_!” Hermione screeched, flinging herself away from the loathsome berk. She continued to howl as Malfoy sat up, laughing at her. “All that time… you’re a rotten son of a —”

“Watch what you say about my mother,” he cautioned. “Shall I take that as a no, then? Oh, well. Never hurts to ask, no?”

Hermione’s temper, however, could not be so easily suppressed. Malfoy chuckled while watching her stomp and kick on the edges of the clearing, all the while screaming out her frustrations. He was rather impressed by her colourful language, too. Malfoy sat up and tried to examine his bite wound. He made a disgusted sound at the sight and then blew out his breath. After a few more seconds, he asked her for his bag.

Under her breath she muttered, “Oh, I _wish_ I had a bag… wrap it ‘round your head…hit you with a rock…”

Malfoy winced as he caught the viciously thrown bag, tossing a disapproving frown her way. From within his bag, Malfoy retrieved a syringe and a small vial, which he promptly injected into his thigh. Next, he retrieved a scratched and worn 45 record that looked as though someone had taken a bite out of it. Malfoy’s smile turned smug as he looked at his partner, but it quickly vanished as she charged forward, wand aimed and thrumming.

“If you _ever_ do something like that to me again —”

“Oh? I thought you rather enjoyed it. Merlin knows, I certainly did.” He winked at her, which managed to take the steam out of her momentarily, her wand nearly falling from her drooping hand. Their gaze held for a long moment and Draco’s smirk slowly crept up. As irritating as she was, there was something about Hermione Granger that excited him. Opportunities to rile her were plentiful, but this had been different. Only in his wildest dreams did Draco imagine he would actually coerce a kiss from the little know it all. And what a kiss! He felt a stirring down low again just remembering the taste. Too bad it ended as it had. Then again, judging by her responses, there was still hope.

With a growl, she spun away from him and Draco had to cover up his laughter by feigning a coughing fit. He glanced down as best he could at his wound and saw that it was beginning to knit back together. “That was a close call. Luckily one of us actually came prepared for this excursion.” 

He stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. His body protested. Seemed like he cut it pretty close administering the anti-venom. Draco cut his eyes back to Granger, who was shoving her scattered belongs back into her bag, still muttering to herself. Draco licked his lip, recalling the taste of her kiss, and sighed. _Was definitely worth it, though._

His first few steps were shaky but soon he resumed his usual swagger. Draco kept his eyes on his partner, who was currently bent over filling her pack, offering him a delicious view indeed. However, she bolted straight up when he vigorously smacked her bottom and sighed, “Yes, thank Merlin for me. Come on, then, love, before Yaxley and the others catch us in a compromising position.”

He held out the broken record and she grabbed it. Only the beginning of her tirade could be heard before the Portkey whisked them back to headquarters.


End file.
